


In Bloom

by magisterpavus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, But also, Consentacles, Farmer Keith (Voltron), Forest Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Monster Shiro (Voltron), Overstimulation, Oviposition, Porn With Plot, Sex Pollen, Symbiotic Relationship, but there is Lore bc it's me and im not sorry, more like...eldritch forest guardian slash sentient plant shiro, sort of. the plot is mostly horny at its core tbh, with seeds????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterpavus/pseuds/magisterpavus
Summary: Keith refuses to believe that the thing in the woods which supplies him with endless produce has any bad intentions. Even if those juicy fruits sometimes make him have weird dreams and get unbelievably horny. It's probably nothing, right? RIGHT??(In which the eldritch entity named Shiro's intentions aren'tbad...but they aren't particularly pure, either.)
Relationships: Keith (Voltron)/Tentacles, Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 760





	In Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun with this one. Many thanks to the prompt from a cc anon: "write a sheith AU where Shiro's a sentient plant/forest god and Keith is but a lone farmer who showers all the plants with love?" which I got carried away with (AS USUAL). 
> 
> find me and more sheith [@saltyshiro](https://twitter.com/saltyshiro) on twitter! thank you for reading <3

Keith’s farm was very normal. He had sheep, a modestly sized cornfield, chickens, and a massive sheepdog whom his friends informed him looked like an actual wolf every time they were over, but who was otherwise an excellent sheepdog.

The forest beside Keith’s farm was very, very, very not normal.

It was subtly weird and bad, according to Pidge – the trees were way older and taller than they should be even for Appalachia, and there were more kinds than the usual sycamore, maple, elm, ash, and pines. There were lofty hemlocks, ancient red spruce and cedars, and some trees which even Pidge couldn't identify. To be fair, though, she refused to step more than a hundred feet into the forest, even in broad daylight. 

Keith’s neighbors, none of whom were awfully close, also stayed the hell out of the forest. They all had their stories, ranging from shambling creatures to evil energy to spooky sounds to one particularly bold claim of massive earthquakes that happened only in the boundaries of the forest, despite the fact that West Virginia was not exactly prone to earthquakes, much less massive ones.

Keith didn’t know what any of them were talking about. He liked the forest. It was comforting. And yeah, sure, maybe sometimes he saw deer with three eyes and strange animal tracks and even stranger birdsong on his treks around it, but every place has its quirks. Keith didn’t mind it. Everyone thought he’d lost his damn mind when he told them he took walks through the forest every morning after his usual chores, because he liked to watch the sun rise through the trees...and because of the flowers.

Keith had never felt any particular way about flowers before he got this farm and started venturing into the forest, because these flowers weren’t like any other he’d ever seen before. They started out small and subtle enough – pretty little red wildflowers with bright golden or deep black centers. He would find them growing along tree roots at first, but the more he returned, the more flowers he would find, carpeting entire areas like moss. Eventually, they increased in variety, until Keith swore he had seen flowers of every color, shape, size, and scent. 

The flowers were beautiful, but the scents were their most appealing aspect. Keith was convinced that no other forest had flowers that smelled so good. At first, he was hesitant to pick them – he didn’t want to take from the local bees or caterpillars – but after a certain point there were so many that it seemed silly not to. Nothing bad happened when he picked that first bouquet and put it in a glass of water on his kitchen table – contrary to Pidge, Lance, and Hunk’s predictions of doom, Keith’s kitchen just smelled a hell of a lot better, and there were more flowers in the same spot when he returned the next morning.

The forest grew rambling rose bushes twice as tall as Keith, fields of poppies and violets and daffodils and tulips, and long blooming vines which wrapped thickly around the ancient trees. Entire new trees grew and flourished, all of them blooming, plenty of them fruiting, and eventually Keith started to pick the fruit, too. Hunk informed him he was playing with fire. Keith informed him that the forest gave him the best fucking apples he’d ever eaten.

There was something funny about the fruit, though.

Keith made cherry pie after he found the first of the cherry trees, and it tasted delicious – his dad would have been proud. No, the taste wasn’t the funny thing. The funny thing was that Keith started having dreams that night. Vivid dreams. Of a man, in the forest.

Well, Keith thought of him as a man, but the more he thought about it when he woke up, the more obvious it seemed that he couldn’t possibly be a man at all. A god, maybe? Had Keith accidentally bought a farm right next to a forest god?

He wasn’t...upset about it. Especially not when the forest god man was, to put it lightly, beautiful. He had appeared only briefly in the dream, but that single flash of his face – handsome, gentle and smiling, a faded scar across his nose, with dark brows, silver eyes, and starlight hair – and the suggestion of a broad, tall form leaning towards Keith through the thick ferns...that was enough.

And he had been letting Keith take flowers and fruit from his forest for almost a year, now. But...why? Maybe he was just a good neighbor. Keith felt bad that he couldn’t exactly return the favor.

When Keith returned the next day, he found an expanse of blackberry bushes, and as he filled up his basket, he was certain that the sharp tangles of briars parted for him, so that not a single thorn caught on his jacket or jeans. He didn’t make a pie this time, but he did – somewhat accidentally – gorge himself on the wild blackberries. They were just _so good,_ almost addictive. And, huh, that was kind of a troubling thought, but one that Keith pushed away with a frown. He didn’t care what his friends said; he had good intuition and he knew will every fiber of his being that whatever was in the forest wasn’t something that bore him any ill will. 

So then why provide the flowers and the fruits? 

Maybe he – it – they – whatever it was...was lonely?

His dream that night seemed to confirm this. Keith was laying in one of the fields of wildflowers, staring at the sky through the trees, when something stroked across his hand. He turned his head to look and saw...a vine. A long, trembling, silvery-green vine which timidly stroked across his palm as he blinked at it in confusion. “Hello?” Keith said, and the vine startled back, but froze when Keith grabbed it. He swallowed. The vine gave a tentative wiggle, and he gave it an awkward squeeze. “It’s okay,” Keith said, and the vine wiggled again, this time less tentative and instead...almost happy. Its slender tip curled around his thumb in a careful loop, and Keith woke up.

The next few weeks went on like this – Keith would gather his daily harvest from the forest, eat it, and have these strange, vivid dreams. But that was all...until the day that his harvest was peaches. 

Keith was pretty neutral on peaches, honestly, but it felt rude to refuse the so obviously presented gift of the new peach tree on his usual path, resplendent with health and life and bearing juicy golden peaches. Keith thanked the forest, as he always did, and plucked a peach from the tree. He lifted it to his lips and took a bite, the juice running down his chin – it was shocking just how juicy they were, actually, and how sweet and delicious. Keith was neutral on peaches, but not these peaches. 

He wasn’t entirely sure what happened next – he kept eating the peach, and as he did so he became aware that the juice was tingling on his tongue, and all down his throat when he swallowed. This was somewhat alarming, and when he paused, without the distraction of the peach he realized his entire body was tingling, warm, and flushed in a very specific kind of way. 

“Oh,” Keith said, slowly sinking to his knees in the thick, welcoming moss, the peach dropping from his hands and rolling to rest, forgotten, among the tree roots. He swallowed again, his heart pounding and his cock throbbing in his jeans, quickly hardening, so fast Keith felt dizzy. Or maybe that was whatever was in that damn peach. He slumped, drawing a sticky hand across his brow, struggling to stay alert in any sense of the word. 

He knew without even trying that his legs wouldn’t obey his commands – all he could focus on was his arousal and the heat settling low and irresistible in his belly. And finally, yes, Keith could admit to some fear – fear that maybe his friends had been right, and he’d just fallen right into some...awful...trap...

A shadow fell over him and Keith whimpered, curling in on himself, nails digging into his thighs through his jeans. “Please,” he gasped, “what – what’s happening…?”

The response was not...in words, not really. A cool breeze washed over Keith, and Keith got the distinct impression of apology, and distress, and something like shame. When he managed to lift his head with great effort, his breath caught. The man from his dreams was leaning over him, and kneeled down, his handsome brow creased. He reached out to Keith with his hands – one human, or with the appearance of it, but the other was simply a collection of those twisting, silvery-green vines. 

Keith flinched away, eyes wide, and the apology washed over him again. The man frowned, and seemed to pause in thought for a moment before Keith received a response, this time in words. _Don’t be afraid,_ he said. _I just wanted you to feel good, but…_ He gave Keith a rueful smile. _It was too much._

“Feel...good?” Keith croaked. He swallowed, his movements still sluggish and eyes struggling to remain clear. He was so hard it almost hurt, and the man’s eyes dropped to his tenting jeans, and for a moment Keith was sure his expression was one of hunger before it became once more one of soft concern. 

_Yes,_ the man said, leaning closer, cupping Keith’s cheek with his human hand, and oh, _god,_ the contact made Keith moan brokenly, and he couldn’t even blame that entirely on the peach. _Do you feel good, Keith?_

Keith sucked in a breath. “You – you know my name.”

The man tilted his head. _Of course. You are my favorite. Everyone else fears my forest. But not you._

Keith found himself lifted up from the moss, a weak crumple of limbs as the man held him in his arm and, uh, vines. “Huh,” Keith said, staring up at him and trying to ignore how everywhere the man touched him made the tingling worse and his cock harder. “Are – are you a monster or somethin’?”

The man chuckled, a strange sound like wind through leaves. _Or something._

Keith’s lashes fluttered; he was finding it near impossible to keep his eyes open for any amount of time. “Are – are you gonna hurt me?” he managed.

The man’s grip on him tightened. _No,_ he said. _Not hurt._

“Okay,” Keith mumbled. “That’s...that’s good, then.”

 _Yes,_ the man agreed. _Good._

“Do you have a name?” Keith muttered, vaguely aware that the man was carrying him through the forest...to where, he didn’t know. On some level, he didn’t really care. 

The man hummed. _You may call me Shiro,_ he said.

“Shiro,” Keith repeated, head lolling against his chest. “Mm…”

*

Keith awoke in a part of the forest he had never been to before. He knew it must be deep, deep into the forest, for the trees here were huge and incredibly overgrown, and the soft moss beneath him must have been several feet deep. The moss was cool against his bare skin, and – wait. Bare? In alarm, Keith scrambled to sit up, realizing that, yes, his clothes were gone, and his cock was no longer hard and aching, which was a worrying combination. But there was no one in sight, and he felt fine, albeit still a little woozy. 

Although he was alone in the clearing, there was _something_ else there — what looked to be a picnic spread, the most elaborate that Keith had ever seen. Hesitantly, he got to his feet, briefly debating finding some way to cover himself before resigning himself to nudity. There was no one else out here, anyway. No one except for Shiro...whatever he was.

Keith knelt by the picnic, and found there was in fact a shimmery black robe folded neatly beside the spread of food. He slipped it on, tying it around his waist and frowning at the food. It was intricately arranged — clementine slices in whirling flowers of fruit, edible flowers in bouquets with berries, bowls of walnuts and hazelnuts and pine nuts and almonds and pecans and warm chestnuts, sunflower seeds and corn and wild rice, figs drizzled in fragrant honey, a variety of bright jams and jellies, and crowning it all a heap of juicy pomegranates, split open, their seeds gleaming like rubies.

Keith hesitated. His friends would call him stupid for even considering to eat any of it, considering what the peach had done, but...he bit his lip. Shiro had apologized. He hadn’t meant to make Keith feel like...that. Just ‘good’ — that was what he’d said. And the blackberries and cherries and apples and all the other fruits had never made Keith feel hopelessly aroused. Just... _good._

He took a deep breath, reached out, and took a single pomegranate seed between thumb and forefinger. When he popped it into his mouth and bit down hesitantly, flavor exploded across his tongue, but there was no tingling, only cool tart juice. He swallowed and, content that Shiro was just being a good host, Keith ate a few more things, and was nibbling the figs intently when Shiro walked into the clearing.

Walked was maybe not the right word for it. Glided? Well, he had legs, and he was walking, but the way he moved was too smooth, as if his feet never really left the ground. Keith froze, slowly lowering the fig. He cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be sorry,” Shiro said, his speaking voice now normal, or as normal as it could be when he still had an entire vine arm, although now it had actually formed into the shape of an arm and hand. “I made it all for you. How are you feeling?”

Keith eyed him as he sat down on the other end of the picnic spread. “Okay,” he said. “Um. What...happened?”

“You slept,” Shiro said. “Until it wore off. Why?”

Keith shifted. “No, uh, no reason.” He took another tiny bite of fig. “This is really good…thank you.”

Shiro tilted his head. “Of course.” He was quiet for a moment, then, “You’re very different from the other humans around here. None of them would dare step foot in my forest, much less eat of my bounty.”

Keith froze, almost dropping the fig. “Oh – uh – should I not have eaten it?”

“No,” Shiro said, expression and voice soft, and _god,_ seriously, who was this guy and who gave him the right to look like that? “I made it for you.”

“Oh,” Keith croaked. “...Why?”

Shiro hummed and stood, walking over and offering Keith his human hand. Slowly, Keith took it, and his serene smile grew. “I would like to show you something,” Shiro said. “I may have a job for you, if you wish to accept it.”

“A job?” Keith echoed as he took Shiro’s hand. His grip was warm and firm and felt somehow right. “Here, in, uh...your forest?”

Shiro nodded, and led him to the other side of the clearing, which ended in a thorny thicket, yet it parted easily in a neat path as the two of them walked through. “It’s a job that has sat empty for many years,” Shiro told him, “for things are not as they once were. This job was once a great honor, you see, but that was before humans turned away from the land and became afraid of me.”

Keith hesitated, looking up at him, then down at the parting briars. “Should we be afraid of you?”

Shiro’s brow lifted. “A good question,” he mused. “You should not be afraid of me, Keith. Nor do you seem to be. You seem to, against all odds, trust me. Why is that?”

Keith swallowed. “You just...this forest doesn’t _feel_ bad,” he said lamely. 

Shiro chuckled. “I’m glad,” he said. “It isn’t bad. Just...different. Strange, perhaps, to you?”

Keith shrugged. “I don’t mind strange...holy shit.”

The briars had ended, dropping them in another clearing, but this one wasn’t exactly clear. It was covered in twisting vines, all of them blooming with a kind of frantic, disordered vivacity. The scent they put out was strong, not exactly fragrant, more overwhelming than anything else. But Keith could hardly focus on the vines’ flowers when the largest flower he had ever seen lay in the very center of the mess, although perhaps it would be more apt to call it a bud, for it did not appear to be open. 

It was a dark, shining purple, its waxy petals glimmering with beautiful iridescence, and it was like nothing Keith had ever encountered before. Its stem was thick and nestled almost protectively amidst a large, coiled heap of the vines, and it was cradled by several thick, curling dark green leaves. Keith turned to Shiro, questioning and trying not to panic, because that thing looked a bit too Little Shop of Horrors for comfort. 

Shiro sighed. “That is...well. I suppose you might call it _me._ My heart, my core, whatever you wish to call it. The form I’m in now is mostly for your benefit,” he admitted.

Keith’s eyes bugged out. “That – that flower, that’s you?”

Shiro gestured vaguely. “This forest is all me, in a manner of speaking, but yes...this is where it all stems from.” He eyed Keith. “I protect this place at all costs, Keith. Do you understand? If any harm came to it, then I might cease to exist, or else be irreparably weakened.”

“I understand,” Keith whispered, staring again at the purple flower with an undeniable curiosity. “But...I still don’t understand why you brought me here. What job can I do, here? Guard this place?”

“That is part of it,” Shiro said with distinct approval. Keith flushed under his warm gaze. “This place, my heart, is very overgrown, as you can see. It needs a gardener – someone to care for it, to keep it healthy and flourishing. It’s too crowded for me to grow any more, here, and it’s begun to take its toll. My gardener would cut back the old growth to make way for the new, harvest the fruits and flowers to set the cycle back to its old ways, and yes, keep it all safe. It is not an easy job, and will likely require daily tending, at least at first, but I thought I should at least try to ask you.” Shiro gave him a small, sad smile. “After all, who knows when the next human will come along who doesn’t fear me?”

Keith blinked at the vines and their flowers, and at the purple flower crowning it all. “Okay,” he found himself saying, “I’ll do it. I’ll be your, uh, gardener.”

Shiro blinked at him in surprise, then beamed. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Keith smiled uncertainly. “When do I start?”

Shiro reached out and squeezed his shoulder. Keith resolutely did not shiver, even when the vines of his right arm brushed against his hip in a way too purposeful to be casual. “Whenever you want, Keith.”

*

Keith started the next morning. 

Instead of his usual short walk, he kept walking through the forest, following the small golden blooms which appeared along the tree roots like glowing lanterns. They led him back to Shiro’s heart, where the tangled mass of vines and the purple flower waited.

Shiro had been right; it wasn’t easy work. The vines were hard to cut, and at first Keith was tentative to cut anything – he didn’t want to harm Shiro, after all. But as he continued, he found that he knew, somehow, which vines needed to be trimmed and which he should leave alone. As soon as he trusted that intuition, the work became more like second nature, and Keith found himself enjoying it, especially when he would return the next morning and see the new growth already beginning to shyly bloom and take root. 

Keith only took fruit and flowers from the clearing, now, and found it was somehow even more delicious than before. Sometimes, Shiro visited, but he wouldn’t talk much unless Keith initiated it – he would just linger, watching with that small smile. 

Once, Keith asked him what he was staring at, and immediately the vine he was pruning began to wither in embarrassment as Shiro ducked his head. “I’m sorry,” Shiro said, “I can leave if you are uncomfortable –”

“No, no!” Keith exclaimed, frantically trying to coax the vine back to life. “It’s okay! Not uncomfortable. You don’t, uh. Make me. Uncomfortable.”

Shiro blinked slowly. “No?”

“No,” Keith said with more confidence. “Honest.”

Shiro’s gaze slid to the purple bud. It remained closed, but Keith would like to think it was not closed so tightly as before. “But _that_ makes you uncomfortable.” He said it a little sadly, but matter of factly. 

Keith shrugged. “I don’t know if it makes me uncomfortable, exactly. It’s just kinda weird. Does it ever bloom?”

Shiro’s eyes gleamed as the bud gleamed with another shimmer of iridescent light. “Sometimes. When encouraged.”

“Encouraged?” Keith echoed. “Should I, I mean – is that part of my gardening job?”

He was unprepared for Shiro to turn bright red and exclaim, “Only if you want!” before fleeing back into his forest without a sound.

Keith frowned at the place where he had stood, then at the shining purple bud. 

“Huh,” he said.

*

Slowly, as the weeks passed, Keith began to work his way closer to Shiro’s flower. He trimmed back the right vines, and tended to the roots, and cut back the moss and brambles when needed, and harvested all of the fruit and flowers offered to him. But the taste of the fruit and the beauty of the flowers were secondary to his focus on the purple flower. 

He was sure it was important, important to Shiro, and Shiro had said he only needed to care for it if he wanted to – but Keith wanted to be a good gardener. The best gardener, even. He saw the way Shiro looked at him through the trees and could not shake the jealousy that settled within him when he considered whether Shiro had looked at his other gardeners that way. Keith hoped not. He hoped, foolishly, that maybe Shiro saw something special in him. And maybe, if he didn’t already, Keith could prove it to him by caring for the flower and making it bloom.

One day, after tending to the heart in the morning, he returned at night, which was new. He just had a sneaking suspicion that it might be the right time to coax the flower into blooming. It seemed so shy in the sunshine, and Keith knew of plenty of night-blooming plants.

Sure enough, when he wandered into the forest’s heart, there was a change in the purple flower. It was not open, but the tightness of its thick petals had relaxed, and from deep within it a warm violet glow pulsed like the little lantern flowers. Its light was soft and enchanting, and Keith felt himself drawn closer, lips parted in silent awe. 

His hindbrain flickered with warnings of predators and traps, but he could think of nothing but the beauty of the flower’s light, and then, as it began to open ever so slightly, that its scent was the best thing he had ever smelled in his life. 

Keith startled back, however, when he actually saw the flower’s throat, which was a vibrant magenta speckled with darker violet which grew ever darker, concealing its true depth. The petals were massive as they unfurled with agonizing slowness, each one large enough for Keith to curl up on it like a mattress. And the inside of each petal, and of the flower itself, glistened with some kind of thick, faintly golden fluid, more of which pooled in the center. 

Keith swallowed. It smelled so good. It must taste even better. Surely one little taste wouldn’t hurt, and in the morning he would apologize to Shiro and everything would be fine. Strangely, Keith didn’t feel like he was breaking any boundaries as he stepped forward, closer, closer – it felt like the flower was beckoning him. He didn’t resist, and stood before it soon enough, close enough to touch. So that’s exactly what he did – Keith reached out to touch the surface of the pool at its center, intending to just get a better look and sense of what that fragrant fluid was...but as soon as his wondering palm made contact, it stuck, and held fast. 

Keith blinked, uncomprehending, yanking again. To his bewilderment, more fluid just oozed from the flower, covering his entire hand in the substance, encasing it up to the wrist. In fact, he swore it was making his hand sink even deeper. Keith’s eyes widened, and he yanked harder, but there was no freeing it. He glanced about, frantic, and then froze as he saw the flower was opening faster, slick petals unfurling triumphantly around him, arcing high over his head. Keith yelled, more out of shock than anything else, because the fluid didn’t hurt, but was instead sweetly warm and tingling...just like the peach juice, he realized. 

Keith swore, struggling in earnest, only to trip on one of the flower’s thick roots, overbalance, and fall directly into the pool with a resounding splash. Keith gasped, flailing in the fluid, which felt like warm honey all around him, covering him up to his neck. “Shiro!” he screamed, uselessly trying to reach out of the pool, his hands barely breaching the surface, everything moving as if in slow motion. “Help –!”

The unfurled petals above him spread to their full, glorious bloom, flooding the chamber with silver moonlight...and then promptly closed with an audible _smack._

In the ensuing sticky darkness, Keith screamed louder, coughing as more fluid oozed from the petals and gathered in the pool below, until his mouth was covered – he clamped it shut before any of the fluid could rush in – and then, to his horror, it covered his nose, and then his eyes, and Keith realized in a single moment of awful clarity that he was going to die here, because _Shiro was a giant carnivorous fucking flower that was going to eat him._

No sooner had he thought it, the level of the fluid around him abruptly dropped, and Keith surged upward, suddenly freed, gasping and coughing for air. To his relief, he got it, although the air inside the closed flower was strange, warm and musky and sweet, and Keith was still lying in a shallow pool of the sticky substance. For a long moment, nothing happened, and even as Keith braced himself for digestive juices and pain, he got neither – the fluid stayed pleasantly warm and tingling where it clung to him.

Almost _too_ pleasantly warm and tingling. 

Keith swallowed thickly, relaxing against the petals as, all around him, the fluid began to glow with that same soothing purple light from before. Keith blinked at the surface of the pool as it began to ripple, and then jolted when he felt _something_ nudge at him from below. 

One by one, vines began to emerge from the pool all around him, swaying and curling in a way that was far more enticing than they had any right to be. Keith stared at them stupidly, then yelped when one began to curl slowly around his right forearm. He paused as he looked at it – it was silvery-green, and its movements were almost curious, not aggressive. Not hungry...not exactly. 

“What do you want?” Keith squeaked, and then squeaked louder when another curious vine brushed the corner of his open mouth, oozing the fragrant fluid. It jolted away when he jerked in surprise, but he hesitantly licked away the droplets it had left on his lips. As soon as he did so, he flushed, his body already warm in the flower’s pool, but now for reasons beyond the temperature. “Oh,” Keith stammered as he felt more vines beneath the surface, tugging curiously at his clothes. “Oh, my god. You’re – what’s –”

Two of the vines succeeded in unzipping his jeans, and from there they made quick work of ridding Keith of them. His briefs were hardly an effective barrier against the tingling ooze and determined vines – or, really, tentacles, Keith thought faintly, they were _basically tentacles,_ and they were going to – oh, _fuck._

Two vines slithered into his briefs and curled around his cock, stroking out of rhythm with each other, more like they were trying to feel him up as much as possible. Keith arched, panicking but not nearly as much as he should have been, his head hitting one of the petals as he did so. He was cushioned by their plushness, and felt more ooze dripping into his hair, over his forehead and cheeks and neck, tingling as it went, some of it slipping into his mouth. 

Keith shuddered, the taste blooming beautifully on his tongue, the heat settling low in his belly as the vines played with his cock. The vine on his arm was coiling tighter, slithering up under his shirt with three others. They tugged the offending fabric free, and his briefs soon followed, and then there could be no denying that Keith was naked in Shiro’s flower, and still fairly certain he was going to be eaten, but also very confused about what was going to happen to him before that, and – _ohhh, no, he was no longer confused._

A vine had pressed earnestly into his mouth, pulsing over his tongue, oozing down his throat, and Keith’s face burned because it felt like sucking dick; there was no other way to think of it. It felt like sucking dick, if the dick tasted incredible and kept twisting gently deeper, flicking over his tongue, clearly testing his limits. The more fluid it pumped down his throat, the less Keith wanted to resist it. 

He’d suspected that from the start, of course...it smelled just like the peach, but stronger, headier, straight from the source. He whined around the vine, hips finally bucking up into the vines’ touch as his cock hardened fully in their slippery grip, submerged and surrounded by the fluid. Its tingling warmth was overwhelming on his bare skin, and he whimpered, squirming and trying to escape the intense sensation. 

He didn’t expect the vine to curl free of his mouth and then stroke tenderly at his lips and the corners of his watering eyes. He absolutely didn’t expect _more vines,_ thicker and stronger than the others, to lift his lower body out of the pool, suspending him just above it, facedown, so that he was looking at where all the vines emerged and could see just how many of them were waiting for him. 

Keith moaned, muffled and helpless around the vine as it plunged back into his mouth. The other vines tightened around his limbs, the ooze dripping onto his skin from the overhanging petals like candle wax, but not warm enough to burn, only enough to stoke that heat climbing higher inside him. More vines joined the two around his cock, stroking harder now, more coordinated, other vines slipping and looping over his body, squeezing his thighs and coiling around his waist and chest. 

Once they discovered how circling around and stroking over his nipples made him twitch and tremble in the vines’ bonds, several thinner tendrils began to tease at his chest in earnest. Keith could only arch into it, toes curling and chest pushing out, mouth stretched wide around the vine and belly quickly filling with that slow, lovely warmth. He never stood a chance, and it didn’t take long for him to start moaning louder around the vine, eyes rolling back and cock swelling as he spilled in a climax that went on and on and on, rolling with the pulses of the vines all around him. 

The vines milked his cock for so long that he started to flinch back, especially when he managed to focus his vision for long enough to see how the pool glowed brighter when his cum hit the surface, swallowed up by the brightening violet. Keith shuddered, as overcome by pleasure as he was certain of his doom. Maybe Shiro wasn’t going to eat him, but was it really better to be wrung dry and come until he couldn’t come anymore – and maybe past that?

Yes, Keith thought with no small amount of shame, it was definitely better. 

But he still didn’t want to die, and when the vines began stroking hopefully at him again, Keith shouted around the vine fucking his mouth, writhing against his bonds. The vine in his mouth slid out, hovering worriedly beside his face again, and this time Keith gasped, “Please, please don’t kill me,” and all of the vines stilled. The one beside his face did, too, and then it slowly drooped down sadly. Keith blinked incredulously at it, and then yelled when he felt himself lowered, back down towards the waiting pool. “Don’t!” he gasped, reaching for the petals, his grip always slipping away. “I’m sorry, I take it back, you can do whatever you want, just don’t –”

_Keith, hush._

Keith froze, staring in disbelief at the pool as a figure emerged from it – Shiro, floating on his back in the pool, reaching up to him with his human hand, the other hand twisting with the same vines that surrounded Keith. His eyes glowed the same soft violet as the flower. Keith squirmed at Shiro seeing him in such a state, but there was nowhere to hide. He still tried to duck his head anyway. “I’m sorry,” he babbled, “I didn’t mean to get eaten by your flower, I shouldn’t have touched it, but I just, I wanted to...to…”

 _To what, Keith?_ Shiro’s voice wasn’t angry, and his hand was so gentle on Keith’s jaw. It was impossible to fear him, like this – or in any form.

Keith shivered, leaning into it. “I wanted to see it bloom,” he whispered. “I wanted to be a good gardener, for you.”

Shiro made a soft, melodic sound, and it echoed throughout the flower like the note of a harp. _You are good, Keith,_ he promised, more of him emerging from the pool, tipping his head up towards Keith’s. _You don’t need to be afraid of me, remember?_

Keith sucked in a breath as Shiro’s own breath feathered over his lips. “Then – you don’t want to eat me?”

Shiro huffed in amusement, and now there was no denying how tenderly the vines wrapped around him and oozed over him. _I don’t eat my gardeners, Keith._ He paused, fondness obvious in his gaze and tone. _Nor would I eat you, regardless. I don’t want to hurt you, never that._

“Then – what do you want?” Keith whispered, dazed at his proximity.

 _What do_ you _want?_ Shiro shot back, his fingers tucking Keith’s messy, sticky hair behind his ear. 

Keith squirmed. He opened his mouth, closed it. In a tiny voice he managed, “Kiss me?”

Shiro hummed, and in answer he leaned up and captured Keith’s lips, kissing him slow and deep, licking into his mouth, which was sweet and hot already from the vines. Keith groaned, pulling against the vines to reach out to him, and as soon as he did so their grip loosened just enough for him to embrace Shiro, tugging him closer. Their bodies pressed together and Keith felt that where Shiro’s body was submerged in the pool, there were no legs, no hardening cock, but instead a growing mass of vines, eagerly curling up to meet him, all slick and sweet. 

Keith realized also that he was still hard, and that, now with Shiro holding him, making the strangeness all the more bearable, and all the more exciting, he wanted a great many things. 

When Shiro broke the kiss, his glowing gaze had darkened and his mouth was shiny and wet. _You taste so good, Keith,_ he said, his voice rumbling through the flower, through Keith. 

“So do you,” Keith managed, breathless, and Shiro laughed, low and approving. Keith bit his lip, swollen from the kiss, and felt with anticipation the vines gathering at his hips and thighs, waiting, flickering over stirring flesh. “You can,” he said, when a tendril slipped across his cock in question, and then as a thicker vine seized his thighs, “yes,” and when he was spread wide over Shiro, the blunt heat of the largest vine yet rolled over his ass, smearing it wet and open, teasing at his hole, and Keith bowed his head against Shiro’s chest and sobbed, “please,” and _felt_ it when the vine oozed anew, dripping hotly into him, the vine following it, filling him and _filling him_ with such impossible slow thickness that Keith felt he might choke on it in the best way. 

_Good,_ Shiro cooed, smoothing his hands over Keith’s sticky skin, cradling his cheek as Keith panted into his palm, grinding his cock into the pool of glowing honey warmth and into the writhing friction of Shiro’s vines. _I have waited so long for one like you,_ Shiro told him like a secret, lips brushing his brow as the vine reached new depths inside him, still pulsing, still pumping him full of tingling heat, so full Keith swore he felt his belly rounding. _Don’t you trust me, Keith?_ he murmured, grip on Keith tightening as the vine inside him began to swell where it was buried. 

_“Ah,”_ Keith panted, nodding and gasping, cock spurting as he felt himself stretched ever wider, “yes, I – Shiro, yes,” and the strangest thing was that he meant it. Just like he’d meant it when he said he knew the forest wasn’t bad, it wasn’t evil, it wasn’t wrong, he meant it now and he knew that the adoration in Shiro’s eyes wasn’t feigned and that, whatever Shiro meant to do to Keith, there was a damn good chance he was going to love it. 

So he slumped into Shiro fully, surrendering, and the vine came inside him in a flood of heat, and with it, the vine rippled and pulsed and Keith felt a weight settle inside of him, and then another, and another. The weights rolled over his prostate, jostling for space, and Keith came with a cry, nuzzling desperately into Shiro’s throat. Shiro purred and rubbed his back, telling him how good he was, how full he was, how good Shiro was going to make him feel. 

More weights joined the first few, and they felt almost round, oblong, like eggs, or...seeds. Keith’s cock twitched back into orgasm at the epiphany, or maybe it had never stopped, and the petals closed tighter around them, and Keith felt a second vine wriggle in alongside the first, sweetly pulsing, and he opened to it with a frantic, whimpering plea. The glowing fluid sloshed around them, and this time when Keith was submerged and filled, he closed his lips around the gentle vine feeding him precious oxygen, closed his eyes, and succumbed, Shiro’s embrace never leaving him.

*

When Keith woke up he was laying in the soft, verdant grass of the forest’s heart, the neatly pruned vines and flowers and trees all around him looking more radiant than ever before. And there were new plants among them, he realized – plants he hadn't even known existed, and maybe they hadn’t, before now. 

He wasn’t alone – he was wrapped in a warm blanket woven of flower petals, and Shiro was sitting beside him with Keith’s head in his lap. Keith made a sleepy, wondering sound, and touched his stomach. It was flat again, and though he ached, it was a good ache, one he savored. Shiro stroked his hair. “Rest,” he murmured. “You did so well, Keith.”

Keith blinked blearily up at him. “You didn’t eat me,” he mumbled, and gave Shiro a dopey smile.

Shiro laughed in soft delight. “No,” he agreed, “I did something much more fun.”

“Mm,” Keith yawned, "yes. You sure did."

Shiro chuckled, and Keith fell asleep to the sensation of him petting his hair, his tired mind imagining his touch was a tangle of tender vines.

*

Keith’s farm was very normal, but his visits to the forest beside it were very much not – and he liked it that way.


End file.
